


The Real Winner

by LilLayneeLoo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne is Stubborn AF, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Cheesy, Childbirth, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jim Gordon & Bruce Wayne Friendship, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Bruce Wayne, Protective Clark Kent, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jim Gordon, Semi-public birth, Seriously I Love Dick Grayson, So so cheesy, Still so so cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo
Summary: “What’s he going to think, though, Dick?...This isn’t normal! This isn’t what he signed up for!”“And why not?...He signed up for all of your chaos, including the three of us, so why would it make any difference to him?...If anything, I think Clark would be thrilled to have another son.”(or, Clark accidentally overhears Bruce talking with Dick about Bruce's other son.)(Mind the tags, please. This is an AU where Damian is Clark and Bruce's biological son.)
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Clark Kent & Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 361





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> Here's an mpreg one shot, cause for some reason I can't get enough of this family.
> 
> It is CHEESY. SO cheesy. Don't say I didn't warn you.
> 
> Also it's minimal angst, mostly domestic fluff with them and the batboys.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a fairly normal Saturday at Wayne Manor.

Dick, Jason, and Tim were sprawled on the floor in the largest of the building’s many dens, engaged in a rather sadistic game of Mortal Kombat on the incredibly large screen Bruce had purchased for them the previous Christmas.

Alfred was somewhere deep in the manor, likely still immersed in the kitchen. Saturdays were Alfred’s ‘new recipe’ days, a tradition that started when Jason made an off-handed comment about being sick of spaghetti and meatballs.

“You try cooking for three young men and one  _ incredibly _ picky eater,” Alfred had said. Clark had been left out of the mix; he was known for being willing to try and being most likely to enjoy anything that Alfred put on his plate. A polar opposite to his boyfriend of just over two years.

It was 5:30, and Clark and Bruce had assumed their usual positions on the couch behind the boys, keeping track of the score so that they could ultimately decide which teenager had won when it inevitably came to an argument.

Under Bruce’s guidance, they had learned to question authority, but none of them questioned Bruce. Clark found it incredibly amusing--each week, Bruce declared the ultimate winner based on who was his favourite at the moment, not on who had actually earned it in the game. The boys had not yet caught on.

Today, though, Clark noticed that Bruce seemed uncomfortable. It was clear that his attention was elsewhere. Bruce had not made a single comment about the battle in front of him, and though his eyes were trained on the screen, they were glossed over. He looked sad and tired, maybe even a little bit sick.

“B, are you okay?” Clark asked quietly, hoping the boys wouldn’t hear. He was successful, his question drowned out by Jason’s screams of “Die! Die! Die!”

One thing that Clark’s relationship with Bruce had taught him was that while Bruce could twist the truth  _ so _ believably to criminals, he was a  _ terrible _ liar when it came to his family. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, Clark. Tired.”

Despite knowing it wasn’t the full truth, Clark dropped it. Bruce was not known for openly sharing his feelings, and he knew from past experience that he would discuss it with Clark when he was ready. 

It was hard to keep quiet, though. Especially when Bruce’s discomfort only seemed to grow over the next half hour, until suddenly he stood and walked quickly from the room.

Clark stood to go after him, but Dick stopped him.

“I’ll go, C,” he said, pausing the game. “I have a feeling I already know what this is about, and I think I might be able to get him to talk.”

Clark frowned, but ultimately let him go. He knew that Bruce was close with Dick. The 19-year-old was his first ward, and had been with him through some of his lowest points. He was his first Robin, his first confidant, his first  _ son _ . Dick had been in Bruce’s life for much longer than Clark had, so he tried not to take it personally that Bruce confided in him first.

When Dick had disappeared from the room, Jason turned to Clark and interrupted his thoughts.

“Wanna play?” 

Clark nodded and lowered himself to the floor next to Tim, grabbing the controller and rustling the youngest’s hair. His concern for Bruce lingered in the back of his mind as he began virtually hunting the boys down. 

Around twenty minutes later, Alfred came into the den. 

“I’ve just finished supper, sirs. Please wash up. And Master Clark, if you would be so kind, retrieve Master Bruce and Master Richard from the cave?”

They all nodded as Jason paused the game.

Clark made his way over to the study just around the corner, heading straight for the grandfather clock and clicking the hands into place. He tried not to listen as he descended the staircase, but it was hard to ignore Bruce’s raised voice from below.

“What’s he going to think, though, Dick?” he was asking. Clark could hear the frustration and  _ fear _ in his voice. “This isn’t normal! This isn’t what he signed up for!”

“And why not? He knows you, B, possibly better than anyone else in the world. He signed up for all of your chaos, including the three of us, so why would it make any difference to him?”

Clark almost turned around, planning on announcing his arrival from the clock as if he hadn’t heard a thing, but Dick’s next sentence made him freeze.

“If anything, I think Clark would be  _ thrilled _ to have another son.”

Clark did not move, disbelieving of what he’d just heard.

_ Another son? Bruce had another son that Clark didn’t know about? _

Clark’s heartbeat picked up, mulling over the idea in his head in excitement.

_ Of course  _ he’d be fine with having another son. Dick, Jason, and Tim had been an unexpected joy in his life since Bruce and him had started dating. Of course, if this meant Bruce had been cheating on him, then that would be another story, but Clark shook his head as soon as that thought crossed his mind. There was no way Bruce would do that to him.

_ Another son. _

Clark covered his hand with his mouth and smiled. He started back up the stairs, floating slightly to avoid making noise. Once he had passed back through the clock, he turned around and called: “Bruce? Dick? Alfred says dinner is ready!”

He heard Bruce mutter under his breath about hoping that he hadn’t heard them, so Clark decided he’d keep it to himself until Bruce was ready. At least he knew that Bruce wasn’t seriously ill or something.

His nerves about his boyfriend were replaced with excitement at the prospect of meeting another of Bruce’s children.

If there was a spring in his step as he went to supper, well, he didn’t really care.

\-----

Dinner was delicious; shrimp scampi with fettuccine. The kitchen and dining room smelled like fish as they ate, but Clark had no complaints.

Halfway through the meal, he realized that Bruce might.

His boyfriend had hardly touched his food, which was odd...Clark knew that Bruce really liked shrimp, and normally would have really enjoyed it. He refrained from saying anything about the food or the conversation he had overheard, but near the end of the meal tucked his hand under the table and laid it on Bruce’s thigh. He squeezed it reassuringly, and mouthed “I love you, always.”

Bruce’s eyes welled up a little as he said this, which struck Clark to the point that he jolted back. Bruce glared daggers at him, the rest of the table now looking at them strangely, and took a bite of shrimp.

Immediately after he had swallowed, his complexion changed to a sickly green hue.

“Bruce?” Clark asked, touching his hand. “Bruce, sweetheart, are you feeling sick?”

Bruce said nothing, but looked fearfully over at Dick as he stood up. Before anyone could say anything, Dick launched into a spiel about how excited he was for patrol. Clark, temporarily distracted by the confusion of Dick’s interjection, did not see Bruce rush out of the room. As soon as he noticed he was gone, though, he stood too.

“Thank you for dinner, Alfred,” he said, starting toward the doorway. “It was delicious. I’m just going to check on Bruce.”

Dick began to protest, but Clark shook his head.

“Please, Dick. Let me.”

Clark wasn’t really sure where Bruce had gone, so he expanded his hearing throughout the house, trying to isolate his heartbeat and breathing. He found him almost immediately, upstairs in their bathroom. 

He took off in a jog when he heard that Bruce was throwing up.

When he reached their bedroom, he slowed, turning hesitantly around the corner. Bruce was sitting on the tile floor, his head pressed against the wall and his hand over his stomach.

“Bruce, love,” Clark said. “You’ve been acting off all day. What’s wrong?”

Bruce looked up at Clark for half a second, then looked down at his lap. His hand jerked away from his stomach to rest on the floor.

“Nothing,” he lied. “I must just have a bug.”

Clark sighed and stepped into the bathroom, sitting down on the floor next to his boyfriend and reaching for his hand.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, because I wanted to wait until you were ready, but I  _ did  _ hear you and Dick talking in the cave. I didn’t mean to listen, but it’s hard not to with  _ my _ ears.”

Bruce was silent, still staring at his lap.

“I know that you have another son, B,” Clark continued. “And I just...I want you to know that it’s okay. You don’t have to hide it from me. I love you, and I’m not going to leave you because there’s another kid in the house. Lord knows I’m smitten with the ones you have already, why would this be any different?”

This time, Bruce looked up at him.

“I don’t  _ have _ another son, Clark. I’m  _ going _ to have another son.”

Clark’s heart leapt in his throat, confusion washing over him.

“But that means…”

“I’m pregnant,” Bruce finished, still somehow taking Clark entirely by surprise. “That means I’m pregnant.”

Clark stared at him, his mouth agape. Bruce fidgeted with his hands for a moment, then suddenly turned and began throwing up again.

This broke Clark out of his stupor. He shifted so that he was on his knees behind Bruce and pressed a hand to his back, rubbing small and soothing circles just above his waist. 

Having already thrown up what little he had eaten, Bruce finished heaving less than a minute later, wiping his mouth inelegantly with the back of his hand and sitting back against the wall. 

Clark took his hand anyway, a smile creeping onto his face.

“While I don’t like seeing you sick, I  _ do  _ think that this is possibly the most amazing news ever. At first, I thought you had another son from a past relationship, like Talia or Selina or someone, then when you said you don’t have another one yet, my brain immediately went to an affair. But I didn’t think you would do that to me, in fact, I was certain. I just...oh, Bruce, don’t get me wrong, if you’re actually pregnant with our child, I’ll be over the moon, but...how?”

“Clark...men don’t get pregnant. If it was just a matter of telling you I had another kid from a past relationship, I wouldn’t have even been worried. And you’re right, I would  _ never _ cheat on you. But this is...how do you even explain this to someone?”

“Have you been to see anyone yet, B? When did you find out?”

“Last week,” Bruce swallowed. “Don’t freak out, but I actually...uh...I collapsed, on patrol.”

Clark stared at him.

“You  _ what?!” _

“I thought I was dehydrated or something, but Dick was with me and insisted that he take me to see Leslie. Turns out I overexerted myself. My pregnant body isn’t quite as versatile and strong as my non-pregnant one.”

“ _ Why didn’t you tell me this?”  _ Clark said, panic rising in him. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? What happened? Is that why Dick knew before me?”

Bruce shook his head and sighed, a small smile on his face.

“Slow down, Clark,” he said. “Yes, I am okay, and yes, so is the baby. He’s perfectly healthy and I’m about three and half months along. Dick was with me; we were just on our way home from patrol, on top of the museum. I felt fine, and then after I pulled myself up over the ledge and onto the roof I suddenly felt dizzy and collapsed. I didn’t lose consciousness, but Dick was terrified. I didn’t even want to go, but he insisted. He was with me when Leslie told me what she had found.”

Clark leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. He gently pulled him closer, up off of the floor and into his lap. He pressed his nose into Bruce’s neck.

“I love you so goddamn much, you know that?” he said, quietly. Bruce leaned into him and sighed contentedly.

“I know. I was scared, for some reason. I didn’t know what you would say and if you would leave me or what, but I’m also...excited? I guess?”

“You guess?” Clark laughed, pulling away. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been more excited in my life. We get another son, B. And he’s  _ ours _ .”

Bruce nodded with a small smile.

“So when are you going to tell Jay and Tim? Does Alfred know?”

“None of them do,” Bruce answered. “I will tell them soon, but I kind of want to wait until we go to see Leslie again. She’s going to figure out how it happened, exactly, and where we’ll go from here. Then I’ll have the full story when I tell everyone else.”

Clark pulled Bruce in again, squeezing gently.

“And I love you too, Clark,” Bruce continued into his shoulder. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you, especially now.”

Clark chuckled.

“Well, you wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for me.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as he pulled away again. Clark noticed that the normal pinkish tinge to Bruce’s cheeks had returned and stood, helping his boyfriend to his feet.

“I want to name him Damian,” Bruce said as they walked out into the main part of the bedroom. “I know it’s really early for that, but I think that’ll make this feel more real. Giving him a name already.”

Clark laughed playfully and shook his head.

“I like it. If it sticks, I’m fine with that.”

He pecked Bruce on the lips and gestured to the door with his head.

“I think the boys are playing Mortal Kombat again. If you’re feeling better, we should probably get down there and keep score.”

Bruce chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

They held hands as they made their way downstairs and back to the den, purposefully avoiding the rooms still touched by the smell of shrimp as to not instigate another wave of sickness. Bruce made sure to smile widely at Dick as they walked in the room together, silently communicating to him that Clark knew now, and that everything was fine.

_ More than fine _ , actually.

Dick returned the smile and looked up at Clark, a flash of joy and excitement in his eyes. It quickly turned to frustration as Jay cried out in glee, having snuck in and shot Dick’s character while he was distracted.

Clark was pretty sure it didn’t matter. Bruce’s smile told him that no matter the score, Dick would be the winner tonight.

Clark looked fondly around the room at his little makeshift family, eyes lingering on Bruce’s hand as it dropped subconsciously to his stomach. 

Little did any of them know.

_ Clark was the real winner. All day, every day. _

He smiled to himself.

_ One hundred percent _ .


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward: Damian is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you wanted a continuation, and while I am too busy to format an entire series based on this fic, I wanted to at least somewhat deliver (get my pun? ahaaa! sorry)
> 
> So, here's another chapter, but it's a big time jump and depicts Bruce delivering Damian. If that's not your thing, don't read :) I won't be offended. I guess you could say it's semi-graphic? But not really. Not even CLOSE to my other mpregs, and aside from the location, this one goes entirely as planned. Woot woot. Yay for Bruce and Clark, doing things normally. Er...well...as normal as this AU gets, I guess.
> 
> But anyway. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Clark stared down at Bane’s body, the tube of neon venom leaking steadily onto the black pavement. This was not how he had intended to spend his Saturday night, and definitely not until this early in the morning. Especially with a very heavily pregnant boyfriend at home.

He sighed, fidgeting with the plastic in his ear. He could no longer hear anyone in the cave, which meant it had cracked when he hit the wall. Not much of surprise, given it was Bane who had thrown him. He shrugged to himself, the broken earpiece more of an inconvenience than anything. He wasn’t worried...

..until footsteps approached him from behind. He whirled around, prepped to continue the fight, and was shocked and extraordinarily angry to see Batman standing in front of him, the cape wrapped fully around his body and down to the ground. 

He knew what it was covering, and it was because of its importance that he shot Bruce an intense glare.

He expected rebuttal, some sort of monotonous defense, until he fully took in his figure. Clark soon realized that his partner was almost entirely out of breath, keeled partially over, and looking extremely regretful. 

“Clark, I’m so sorry,” Bruce panted, before he could say a word. He took a few steps, his cape fluttering aside momentarily enough for Clark to catch a glimpse of the hand that was clutching at the abdomen of Bruce’s stretched suit. “I shouldn’t have come...Dick and Alfred...but when you weren’t answering...I was worried that you weren’t okay...Bane...had to make sure...had to know...before...”

Clark stepped forward and put an arm gently under Bruce’s, lifting up slightly and taking some of the weight off of Bruce’s feet. His boyfriend’s teeth were clenched tightly, eyes shut and still struggling for breath.

“Before what? Bruce, tell me what the hell is going on,” Clark hissed. He was trying his best to stay calm, but Bruce hadn’t listened to him, and judging by the frantic questions coming through the muted commlink still lodged in Bruce’s ear, he hadn’t listened to anyone else at the manor either.

They had repeatedly and explicitly forbade him from going on patrol, for not only his own safety, but Damian’s as well. Bruce had generally done well at prioritizing his unborn child over the mission, but apparently that was not the case this evening.

Clark knew he’d have to talk with Bruce about putting his safety over Damian’s, but that was for another time.

“I was worried you were-”

“No,” Clark interrupted, pulling aside the cape and putting a hand over Bruce’s on his abdomen. “I don’t mean why you’re here, I mean why you’re in so much pain. You’re practically bent over with it.”

As if on cue, Bruce’s whole body tensed. The weight Clark was supporting suddenly got much heavier as Bruce’s knees became weak.

“He’s coming, Clark,” he said. “I’m so sorry... I didn’t say anything earlier... I needed you to... put the mission first...especially because right now I can’t... but now... he’s almost here.”

Clark met Bruce’s eyes for a split second, and while he was furious with him for being so stupid and trying to do everything alone all the time, he recognized a rare flash of fear and desperation in Bruce’s eyes as he fought with his own body and instinct.

“We have to get you to the hospital then, B,” Clark said. A distinct aura of calm settled around him. He realized that he needed to be an anchor right now, for the man who was usually his. 

Bruce nodded, screwing up his eyes again.

Clark could still hear Alfred on the other end of Bruce’s earpiece, frantically asking for him to respond. They took a few steps forward, trying to get into a rhythm, but Bruce couldn’t move quickly, his motion incredibly limited by his heavy abdomen. They had only made it around twenty feet forward when Bruce clasped Clark’s hand and squeezed his eyes shut again.

Clark took advantage of the pause, pulling Bruce’s earpiece out and turning the mic on.

“Alfred?” He asked. “It’s Clark. Bruce is with me. He came to check on me. Bane tossed me around a bit, my earpiece is broken, but I’m okay. I think Bruce is...”

Dick stepped in and cut him off before he had the chance to continue.

“You need to get Bruce to a hospital, Clark. He’s been in labour for like 15 hours now! Since this morning! We were calling you to tell you we were leaving when we realized your comm was out, and B snuck away from us and took off!”

“Yeah, we’re working on it, Dickie. Let Alfred know, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Clark. He’s gotta be damn close to giving birth.”

Bruce tensed again next to Clark, and Clark took a shaky breath. His aura was disappearing as quickly it had come, and he began to feel a little bit of panic. 

“He is, but it’s alright, okay? I’ve got him. We’ve got this.”

“Let us know when you get to GCGH if we’re not there by the time we arrive. We’re on our way now.”

“Sounds good. I’m going to go now though, Dick. Bruce needs me here.” At his agreement, Clark turned off the earpiece and tucked it into one of the compartments on Bruce’s belt. He pulled out his own and followed suit. “B, sweetheart, can you move again?”

Bruce nodded, repositioning himself slightly. “He’s fucking right between my legs, Clark...I feel like he’s right there already.”

Clark took a deep breath. “I’d fly you, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“No...I’d be sick...we can walk. I have to get myself there... How far is it?”

“You’re usually the one who’s good with geography, but uh...we’re in Old Gotham, so it’s definitely over a mile. I wouldn’t say it would be two though. Let’s say a mile and a half.”

Nothing changed in Bruce’s face, but Clark could hear his heart pick up from a fairly steady albeit a bit fast pace, to absolutely pounding in his chest. For the first time in their relationship, Clark could tell that Bruce was genuinely and wholly afraid. 

But, to Clark’s awe, as soon as it had picked up it had slowed again, Bruce’s face shifting to one of determination.

“I have to make it, Clark. I don’t really have another choice.”

“I can carry you. It’s not superspeed, but at least we’ll be moving steadily.”

Bruce contemplated this for a moment, then nodded. Clark, very gently, scooped him up into his arms, taking a few moments to let Bruce adjust. Clark felt guilty. He looked so uncomfortable as they began walking.

They walked for maybe a minute before Bruce cried out, the force of the contraction catching him off guard and forcing him to curl around his stomach.

Clark lowered Bruce to his feet, then knelt down on the ground and looked up into Batman’s cowl. Bruce immediately leaned on Clark, doubling over and gripping his shoulders firmly. Clark let him. He reached up and pulled the black fabric off of his face, simply ignoring the bolts of electricity that erupted as soon as he detached it from the rest of the suit.

Bruce didn’t fight him, just stood still and panted through the pain. Clark put his hand up to his boyfriend’s cheek and frowned sympathetically.

“Bruce, please for once in your life be honest with yourself...do we have any chance at all of making it to the hospital?”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but just shook his head, resigned to his circumstances.

Clark sighed and, once the contraction had passed, helped Bruce sit on the ground against a lamppost. He walked a few feet away and looked around them, hoping to spot an open shop or an apartment with the lights on. Somewhere that he could go for help.

It was two in the morning, though, and nothing was around. He decided that, despite his better judgement, he’d have to break in somewhere. Surely Bruce could pay for the damage, and he imagined the GCPD might look the other way given the situation. Then it struck him.

Bruce was still panting when Clark returned to his side.

“Clark,” he said between breaths. “Clark, the GCPD is two blocks away. That’s only like...500 feet from here.”

“That was exactly what I thought too. Might be the only open place at this time of night.”

Clark handed the cowl to Bruce, then promptly lifted him back into his arms and began to move. He forced himself to keep going as Bruce endured another contraction, marvelling at how quiet and composed Bruce was, given the situation. It really was as if he had simply accepted that this was going to be the reality of their son’s birth and was moving forward.

It was so brave. So...Bruce.

Bruce tugged on the cowl as Clark approached the tall glass door of the police station. Only one officer in the building knew his actual identity, and Bruce preferred to keep it that way.

“Gordon,” he breathed as they stepped through. “Ask for Gordon.”

Clark kept Bruce in his arms, curled up safely around his stomach, protecting their secret. He approached the front desk where the secretary gave him an incredibly confused frown.

“Superman?” she asked. “How can I help you? Does Batman need medical assistance?”

“I actually need Commissioner Gordon. Please tell me that by some miracle he’s still here.”

She nodded. “It’s your lucky night. He’s been up reexamining evidence for your...friend, there.” She looked pointedly at Bruce and frowned again. Clark didn’t acknowledge her confusion, but stepped away from the desk.

“Third door, Clark,” Bruce said, very quietly. “On the...ah!...on the right!”

Clark didn’t bother knocking, nearly snapping off the door handle as he pushed it open. Gordon was at his desk and swore when he heard the commotion, but as soon as he looked up and saw Batman in Clark’s arms, his demeanor changed.

“Superman? What the hell happened?” 

Clark didn’t say anything at first, but took Bruce immediately over to the corner of the room and set him down. He watched as Gordon surveyed Bruce’s costume, eyes landing on the very obvious protrusion on his middle.

“Jim,” Bruce said, pulling the cowl off once again. “Jim... I’m sorry for this but...I’m about to give birth... on your floor.”

Gordon stared at him in confusion and disbelief, then turned to Clark. All he could do was shrug apologetically. Clark watched as Jim fought himself mentally, partially scared, partially still in disbelief. But as Bruce cried out again with the sudden force of a contraction, it seemed like he came to terms with the situation.

“Yeah, you are,” he almost chuckled to himself. “I remember those noises when Barbara was born. Has he bit your head off yet?”

Clark didn’t know what to say; he wasn’t sure if Gordon knew that he and Bruce were together.

“Relax Mr. Kent,” he said. “I know who you are and that you and Bruce are together.”

Clark did relax and was about to respond when Bruce’s breath hitched again. They both kicked back into gear, Gordon stepping out of the room for a few minutes and returning with a few towels and a cup of water.

Clark accepted them, grateful for his help. 

“Superman, do you know what you’re doing?” Jim asked. “I can call an ambulance?”

“No,” Bruce growled, tossing his cape on the floor. “Not yet.”

Clark was speechless.

“Why, Bruce? I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Call Dick,” Bruce said, fiddling with his belt and retrieving the ear piece. “Tell them to come here instead. Jim knows who I am so that’s fine but I am not having a baby with the cowl on just so paramedics can be here.”

“But we-”

“I know what I’m doing, Clark,” Bruce sighed with exasperation. “You know me... you don’t think I made sure I knew everything about this before today came?...contingencies.”

He tensed again as he finished speaking, his hands pushing up on the floor and forward away from the wall so that he was curled around his bump again. Clark turned on the earpiece and stepped out of the room to call his son.

Gordon flinched.

“Do you need me for this? I mean...I’ll stay if you need it, but I’d rather not…”

“Dick will come,” Bruce panted. “He was supposed to come in with me anyway...at the hospital. He and Clark.”

Gordon nodded.

“I’ll stay until he’s here then. If not for your sake, then Supe-...Clark’s.”

Bruce nodded and pushed himself up a little more straightly, back flat against the wall. He tried to reach for his boots to unbuckle them, but couldn’t over his stomach. Gordon immediately stepped forward and dropped down to do it for him, unbuckling them carefully and tossing them across the room. Clark came back in moments later.

“Thank you, Jim,” Clark said. “For everything, not just Bruce’s boots. Dick and Alfred are on their way, B. How are you doing?”

Bruce sighed again. “I can tell he’s close, Clark. I hope he’s okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to call a doctor, Bruce? This is...this is dangerous to do on our own.”

“Clark, don’t. Leslie’s out of town right now. If she wasn’t, we’d call her, but we can’t. She said I’m healthy. Damian’s healthy too, so I’m confident he’ll get here just…”

Cut off by a contraction, Bruce’s knees instinctively bent up to his chest. Clark crouched at his side as Bruce grunted, his demeanor seemingly shifting as he endured. When it dissipated, Bruce leaned back against the wall.

“I want to be angry with you, Bruce,” Clark said, touching the side of his face. “You were so stupid and irresponsible with your life and his, and I can’t even believe you came out after me. But, sweetheart, you are so amazing. So strong.”

Jim was standing in the corner and his jaw had dropped.

“Batman gets called “sweetheart?!”” he chuckled. “I never would have guessed that in a million years.”

Bruce grasped Clark’s hand when the next contraction started, his knees pulling closer to his shoulders. 

“Normally I avoid it when the cowl’s on,” Clark said, trying to draw attention away from his boyfriend, who’s face had turned beet red with the force of the contraction. He was exhaling infrequently, his breathing steady but fairly sporadic; almost calculated. Clark just hoped he would deliver Damian soon. He looked more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Jim…” Bruce croaked when the contraction had passed, tired, but still the external epitome of calm. There was a slight crack in his voice that Clark couldn’t help but frown at as he continued. “Dick will be here any minute... It’s okay if you leave now. I don’t want to force you to...see anything you don’t want to.”

Jim nodded and kneeled down in front of Bruce’s knees. He looked at him awkwardly for a moment, then rustled his hair like he had done when he was a child in need of comfort. “Good luck, Bruce. You can do this.”

Bruce nodded his thanks and watched Gordon leave the room. The door wasn’t even fully closed when Bruce began to tug at the waistband of his pants, looking at Clark with an air of urgency that threw him totally for a loop.

“Get these off me, Clark,” he said. His voice was quiet, but was backed by an alarming amount of force. “Get them off now, Clark, he’s coming right now.”

Clark’s eyes widened as he tugged his boyfriend’s pants down to his ankles, shifting his own position so that he was at Bruce’s feet. Before he even had the chance to fully comprehend where he was at, Bruce had his hands wrapped around the back of his knees and was pulling them up to his chest. His face returned to the red hue from before, this time twisted in pain.

“Shit, are you pushing Bruce? Oh my god, you’re pushing!”

Bruce let out a heavy sigh, panted for a second, then inhaled another deep breath and went again.

“B, oh my god,” Clark stuttered. “B, I can already see his head!”

Bruce relaxed slightly as his contraction waned. 

“I know,” he breathed. “I know...I was pushing...the last two contractions...when Jim was still in here.”

“Bruce!” 

“Clark, don’t,” said a voice behind him. Clark turned his head and saw Dick sneaking through the door, keeping it as closed as possible. “He’s an idiot, yes, but that’s not what matters right now, right?”

Dick avoided looking anywhere other than Bruce’s face as he stepped toward him. He lowered himself to the floor next to Bruce, his back to Clark and thereby shielded from the action.“Hey, B, you dummy. In a police station? Only you.”

“There are worse places,” Bruce growled. “It was almost...in the street.” 

He gasped slightly, then forced himself to exhale and take a deep breath. Dick replaced one of Bruce’s hands with his own, pulling back slightly on his knee and letting his father-figure hold onto him instead.

The effort of the push lifted Bruce’s back away from the wall again, and forced a pained grunt from chest. He fell back again when it was over.

“Gordon sent everyone home,” Dick continued, as if Bruce wasn’t pushing a baby out and they were just having a perfectly normal conversation. “So nobody will be any the wiser. It’s the middle of the night anyway. Jim has it covered.”

Bruce nodded gratefully, unable to say much as he pushed again.

Clark stared down at Damian’s head, still emerging slowly from his boyfriend’s body. He was terrified at the moment, but also so incredibly excited to meet their son.

“Fuck,” Bruce breathed, as he breathed and pushed again. This time, Clark cheered him on as the head progressed and eventually popped through.

“Bruce! His head is born! You’re actually doing this!”

Dick laughed at his excitement, reaching for one of the towels and wiping Bruce’s sweaty forehead.

“Thanks, Dick,” Bruce murmured. He had very little time to breathe, regrettably, suddenly lurching forward with another grunt and squeezing the life out of Dick’s hand. He stopped pushing a few seconds later, just panting as a shoulder passed through. 

He bore down again, and just like that--with Bruce’s final push--Damian was there, slipping into Clark’s arms as his exhausted father fell back against the brick wall. Clark’s face was etched with a mixture of fear and excitement, looking helplessly down on their newborn son. Dick was laughing, still pointedly looking at the wall instead of the baby. Bruce was weak and so tired, but nevertheless reached out for him.

“Clark… can you?...just rip the suit open...Over my chest...please,” he panted. “Lay him...right against my skin…and your cape…cover us...”

Clark seemed to understand what Bruce wanted, holding the baby on one arm and grabbing at the neck of Bruce’s suit with the other, tearing the fabric in one swift motion and revealing Bruce’s scar-littered chest. He moved the tiny infant quickly into place, watching in awe and fondness as Bruce wrapped his arms around him so naturally and began cooing gently.

“Gotta...clean him up,” Bruce said, quietly and breathlessly to Clark. His voice was husky, and he was clearly completely exhausted, but he was still so gentle and calm with their son. Clark unhooked his cape and laid it gently over Bruce’s bare legs and their son’s back. With Bruce covered again, Dick grabbed the remaining towels and handed one to Clark.They worked together, rubbing the fabric over delicate skin in an attempt to remove the excess fluid and vernix, Clark paying special attention to his eyes, nose, and mouth on Bruce’s instruction.

Damian didn’t cry, but rather made small squeaking noises. Bruce was asking him gentle questions, and their son answered in coos that made Clark’s heart sing.

“Commissioner?” Dick yelled, pulling Bruce’s discarded suit, cape, and cowl away from him and throwing them into Gordon’s desk drawer. “Commissioner, he’s here! Can you send them in?”

Moments later, two paramedics came rushing into the room, and Clark literally sagged with relief. Dick smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up, then slipped back out of the room. 

They didn’t bother trying to take the baby away from Bruce as they uncovered his legs again and instructed him through the delivery of the afterbirth. A gurney was brought in by a third paramedic, and Clark watched as they lifted Bruce off of the floor.

“Thank you for your service, Superman,” one of the paramedics said, entirely oblivious to Clark’s true role in the scenario. He simply nodded, and if they noticed him flying vigilantly behind the ambulance as they took his partner and newborn son to the hospital, they didn’t question it.

Clark pulled back as soon as they actually came near the emergency entrance, zipping away to quickly change out of his costume. Minutes later, just as Bruce was being carted through the doors, Clark Kent ran through them and caught up to them, his glasses only slightly askew.

“Clark!” Bruce called, reaching a hand out to him. “He’s here, Clark. I’m sorry you missed it!”

Clark smiled softly. Bruce, ever vigilant, was covering for what had really happened.

He followed the gurney up the hallway and into an examination room, grasping Bruce’s hand as soon as he was able.

\-----

“I think we might have a future Robin on our hands. He just couldn’t wait to go on patrol with you, could he?” Dick joked, gently stroking Damian’s dark hair. “God, he looks so much like you, Bruce.”

A few hours later, once it was morning and Bruce had had the opportunity to not only make himself decent, but also to rest for a little while, the boys and Alfred had come into the room to visit. Clark was seated next to Bruce, both of them staring down at the tiny infant in Bruce’s arms.

“I still can’t believe he came out of you,” Jason said, sitting quietly at the foot of the bed. “I mean...I know it’s a fact of life and all, but that’s so damn weird.”

Alfred stood in the corner of the room, watching the family before him with great fondness. He had held Damian as soon as they had arrived, while a nurse checked over Bruce’s vitals. When the nurse had left, however, Alfred had handed him straight back to him.

Tim was old enough to understand what had happened, but still too young to be entirely comfortable with it. The twelve year old had immediately gone to Clark, completely and utterly unsure of his place in the room. Clark had let him climb up into his lap, and kept a reassuring hand on his back as he leaned toward Bruce and the baby. 

“He’s so small,” Tim observed. He hadn’t touched him, and Clark figured he probably wouldn’t for a while. He just seemed so unsure.

“Isn’t he, Timmy?” Dick said, reaching across the bed and tousling Tim’s hair. All of them knew it was a comfort thing for him, and made a habit of doing it when he needed reassurance. “His skin is really soft, too.”

“You can touch him, Tim,” Bruce said, breaking his silence. “We know you won’t hurt him.”

Tim shook his head silently, and decided that he had had enough of being on Clark’s lap. He climbed down and went over to see Alfred.

Jason took this opportunity to come and meet Damian. He wasn’t nearly as hesitant as Tim, and reached immediately toward him. Clark half expected Bruce to flinch--he and Jason had had issues in the past, particularly with Jason’s recklessness--but he didn’t. He even turned the baby slightly so that Jay could see his face more clearly.

“Dick’s right,” he said. “He looks exactly like you. And jeez his skin is soft.”

Bruce shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. Clark held out his hands and offered to take Damian from him so that he could adjust, but Dick interrupted.

“Actually, can I hold him?” 

Clark smiled broadly as Bruce passed their son to Dick instead. He took him so carefully, propping up his entire body with his left arm and cradling his head in his right hand. Damian shifted slightly in his swaddle, but only made a content cooing sound before stilling in sleep.

“Well,” Jason said, smirking at his older brother. “We know who Dami’s going to like the most. He’ll be a regular miniature Dick. A “Little D,” if you will.”

Dick blushed slightly.

“I’m sure that Damian will get along just fine with all of you,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes. He stretched a little, shifting his weight in the bed so that he was lying a little flatter. He stifled a yawn. He had only slept for a few hours and, given the extensive toll that had been taken on his body, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Clark could see that Alfred had noticed Bruce’s extreme exhaustion, and attributed his observations to his declaration that they should leave twenty minutes later.

“As much as I too, would enjoy staying with the newest member of this little family, I do believe it would do Master Bruce some good for us to leave him to rest.”

Clark took Damian from Dick’s arms as they headed for the door, bading the two of them a good afternoon, and promising to visit again in the evening. Once they were gone, and a nurse had come in to reassess Bruce and Damian again, Bruce settled back into the bed and reached for Clark’s hand.

“Jim must be traumatized,” he murmured, mostly to himself, but in Clark’s general direction. “You must be traumatized.”

“Me?” Clark asked. “No... I mean, it’s not like I had to carry my labouring boyfriend into a precinct, while dressed in our superhero costumes, pretending like he’s not about to give birth, then proceed to deliver the baby of said boyfriend on the floor of a Commissioner’s office.”

Bruce snorted.

“But compared to you?” Clark said, his tone shifting to a soft tone, full of admiration. “I’d do that all again, B. I can’t believe that you brought him to us. I mean...he’s...he’s…”

“Beautiful,” Bruce said, his eyes lolling closed and his grip on Clark’s hand loosening. “Of course he is, he’s our son.”

Damian cooed then, staring up at Clark with curiosity, his eyes still as full of sleep as his father’s. Clark chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s hand.

“Clearly he’ll be modest too.”

Bruce’s smile was inhibited by his fatigue. Clark pressed another kiss to his knuckles.

“Sleep B,” he said. “I’ve got Damian. I’ve got you both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by! As always, comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> -Laynee

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope that everyone who sees this is doing well during these strange times.
> 
> <3
> 
> -Laynee


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